Enchant Me
by Mia-Zeklos
Summary: Draco needs Hermione's favor for a potion he really should have - a one that she had invented. Written for opaque-girl's 'The Originality in Your Favorite Pairing' Challenge on the Harry Potter Challenges Forum.
1. Chapter 1

_My third and last fic for opaque-girl's 'The Originality in Your Favorite Pairing' Challenge on the Harry Potter Challenges Forum. The twist for this one is: "Hermione becomes famous for inventing a love spell that ensures people don't fall in love with each other against their wishes. Draco is interested in it (for whatever reason you fancy - maybe to protect himself against potential suitors?)"._

**Author's notes: Well, this was originally written from Hermione's POV, but I had honestly no idea how to do it, so… I'm back to writing it from Draco's. And, the seventh year at Hogwarts I'm talking about is the one some of the students finished after the war.**

**The song used in the story is _Enjoy the Silence _by _Depeche Mode._**

_Words like violence break the silence  
Come crashing in into my little world  
Painful to me, pierce right through me  
Can't you understand oh, my little girl?..._

His hand froze on the doorknob, but he knocked anyway, with a sigh that declared he had given up from the fight inside him. He had no choice anyway. And plus, he had passed through half the country and was right now in a Muggle neighborhood. Things couldn't get any worse for him, could they?

A brown-haired woman opened the front door – not exactly the one he had expected, but probably a relative. Most likely a mother. Another sigh from his, this time a bit annoyed. He didn't want to answer any questions this woman possibly had for him.

"Can I help you?" she asked politely.

"Actually, yes." He said, licking his lips nervously. "I'm Draco Malfoy. Does Granger… Hermione Granger live here?" he said; it was the first time he had said her name at all. It sounded strange.

The woman nodded, called her daughter and told her that 'Draco (what was your name again? Draco Malfoy is asking for her'. Draco heard a response somewhere far away, maybe on the second floor in the house. There was no turning back now.

Well, at least he knew he had done things way stupider than this one.

o.O.o

If she was surprised to see him here, in her own home, Granger didn't show it. She merely said 'sit' and sat on the couch, waiting for Draco to say what he had came for. He thought that he was probably interrupting her in the middle of something important – now that she had invented all these useful spells and potions she had created after their last, seventh year at Hogwarts.

"I wanted o ask for more information about that… anti-love potion of yours" Draco managed to say. She nodded understandingly.

"I assume you're talking about the one that prevents you from falling in love?" she asked. Draco hesitated for a second again – he wasn't sure if she's going to ask any questions. Then decided that she won't – why would _Granger_ care why he needed it? She only had to make it.

"Exactly." He said at least.

"Well, it's personally made for everyone." She said matter-of-factly and took out from her bag a notepad and something that slightly resembled a quill – only that it was smaller and he couldn't hear it scratching on the thin paper. He looked at the notepad with the corner of his eye and saw that she was writing down his name. "I'll need some specific information – like height…"

"6'3''." he answered immediately. He was ready to give any personal information if he only got the craved potion in return.

The thing was that he was already twenty-year-old. He wasn't sure he needed a wife yet, but his parents seemed certain that he just have to find one. Preferably rich. And a pureblood one, of course. This made the situation pretty bad, because there weren't many women his age that fulfilled these criteria. The ones that fulfilled it, thought, were a part of a pretty painful past he didn't want to remember.

The first thing everyone said when they found him considering the possibilities he had, was 'Why not Pansy Parkinson? You two seemed to be good friends in school.' Yes, they were good friends. There were times when they were even something more. But after the war and everything else that happened to Draco, he saw her and found out that he simply can't stand her anymore. She was a bit annoying since he knew her, of course, but it was something different. He just couldn't look her in the eyes. She reminded him of the life he had before, of the person he _was _before – and that was something he didn't want to relate to. The same applied to almost any girl he hanged out with just a few years ago.

So he had to make sure that he can't fall in love with anyone. That would be the perfect life for another year or two – which was also the time needed for him to find a decent wife. Maybe one from another country. He happened to like the way Beuxbatons, for example, taught their students. He was sure he had some cousins in France, so it wouldn't be that hard to meet a pureblood witch. He just wasn't ready for that yet.

"Also" Hermione continued and Draco returned his attention back to what they were talking about. "I'd like to know how strong you want it to be and for how much time you want it to have effect on you…"

"Two years." He answered without even thinking about it. She raised her eyebrows.

"Two years? It's impossible to make it last long enough if you drink it just once…" she said. "And plus, how do you expect me to have the ingredients for such a large amount of potion?"

"I'll pay you. Not just for the potion." Draco hurried to add. "But for the ingredients also. I'll give you the money you need for it or something like that…" he was actually desperate. She was the only person that could help him right now – no matter how bad he felt about it. He realized that she had no point of doing anything at all for him after everything she had been through because of him in their school years. And yet, she agreed to make the potion for him and he wanted her to make a great quantity of it just for him. He was being greedy.

Granger laughed quietly, almost patronizingly at his words.

"What's so funny?" Draco snapped. He didn't like people laughing at him. Especially when he didn't know what they were laughing about.

"You can't pay for everything, Draco." She said.

Draco was so stunned by her saying his first name that he couldn't answer her properly. He just looked down and stared at his feet, trying not to get angry. Was she mocking him because he wanted to pay to her? If he didn't need the damn potion so much, he would leave this stupid place in this exact second.

"What… what do you want for it, then?" he mumbled.

"I don't make my clients pay for the ingredients of their potion." She pointed out. "But you just want something impossible. Right now, I can make it last for six months and… I guess that's all I can offer you."

"Well, you can just make four potions that will last for sixth months, can't you?" Draco asked, confused. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"It's not about that. Many people ordered the same potion till now, so I don't exactly have time to make so much only for you." She fell silent for a second, probably reconsidering something, then said. "Well, I could brew you one for sixth months from now and after that, you can come and order another one. Then I'll be able to make it for you." She proposed at least.

"Perfect, then." Draco said, taking it as a last possibility to still get what he wanted. He stood up from the couch and looked down at her. "Six months. How about meeting you after a week? Will the first one be ready?"

She nodded. Draco left the house just five minutes after that, glad that he was done with that. He was trying not to think about to whom exactly he had purchased his potion. It was too ironic that he couldn't stand her back in school, then they had to share a common room only for themselves, because they were the Head Boy and Girl – and they still didn't feel very comfortable with it – and now _this._

o.O.o

So here he was again, just a week later, impatiently knocking on the door. He felt irritation made its way inside him when nobody opened the door. Was it possible? How could she go somewhere out right now, when he was supposed to meet her here? With an annoyed sigh, Draco started pacing up and down the street.

As the time passed, he had a moment to remind to himself what a bad idea was that. He had no other opportunity, of course, but still, it wasn't very smart to come here. He could remember how awkward things were during the long months of their last year at Hogwarts. They had one common room for two of them, but his personal room was straight against his one. Every time he saw her coming out in the morning, he waited for her to go out of the common room and then went to breakfast. He didn't fancy meeting her or talking to her at all, even when the Headmistress needed them to do something together.

And now, instead of forgetting about her at all, he was walking around her house, waiting for her to come and give him something that would basically save his life. Draco suspected that he had deserved that, though; he _had _to get some sort of punishment for what he had done through the years. But this was too much.

"I'm sorry I'm late!"

He heard her voice before he saw her coming from behind him. Draco tried to resist the urge to say _Well, you should be sorry!_ and tried to smile instead.

"No problem. Is it ready yet?" he asked impatiently and investigating the things she was carrying with her. A bag and a few things he couldn't recognize – maybe some Muggle stuff – but none of them resembling the potion he was supposed to get. Hermione – it was still difficult for him to get used to the name, even when he was saying it only in his mind – nodded.

"Yes, it is. Come inside" she said, gesturing to the door of her house she had just unlocked. "I'll go and find it…"

This time, unlike the last one a week ago, the house was empty. Maybe her parents were out. Draco sat in an armchair, looking around appreciatively at the furniture, the photos – not moving, for his slight surprise – on the walls and everything else around. The house was small, so was the room, but everything was… warm. It was apparent that the people living here loved this home.

"Here it is." Hermione said, coming from somewhere up the stairs and passed a small bottle to him. "Like I promised. It will affect you for six months. Then you have to come back and purchase the next one. You'll know it when the effect wears out… I don't know how to describe it, but you'll feel it." she said.

"Perfect." Draco said and took the bottle closer to him, examining it with his squinted eyes. "Well how will I know when it _starts _working, then?" he asked and looked back at her. He had to be sure that this thing will have effect on him. If not, the danger of falling in love was still there. Hermione sighed. She was probably already out of temper because of him, but didn't want to show it. Not that he cared.

"I guess I can come and ask you if it works and maybe make a few tests on you." She said. "Where do you work?"

"St. Mungo's." Draco answered contently. He was sure that a test or two wouldn't hurt. "Every day you'd like will be fine; I'm almost always there."

"Very well." The witch said rather tiredly and he left. He didn't want to meet her often, yes. But he would do anything to make sure that this potion of her works. _Anything._

Even spending a few days more than necessary in the company of Granger.

o.O.o

"Dr. Malfoy?" Draco heard another healer calling for him; a woman. He looked at her half-absently, then back at his patient – a girl who had taken her father's wand secretly. He wasn't sure he'll be able to eat his lunch after the sight of the not seriously harmed, but pretty wounded kid.

"There's someone who wants to see you?" the woman said, entering the room. Draco grinded his teeth. He liked to work alone and preferably without anybody being around but him and the person he had to heal. Especially much he hated it when someone invaded his personal space without even asking.

"Can't you see I'm busy now?" he asked, a bit angrily.

"She said you wanted her to come here, Doctor." The woman said, not being as impressed by his anger as he thought she should be. Draco tried to rethink her words while dealing with the girl that apparently didn't like him – she was crying so loud that he was already considering giving her Sleeping Draught until she was ready to go.

"_She?_" he asked despite his attempts to ignore the other healer. "A woman?"

"Yes, but she didn't tell me her name."

"And what did she look like?"

"Well…" the woman hesitated. "I'm not sure. Brown eyes. Somewhat tall. Long brown hair. Really curly and…"

"I know her." Draco said, immediately remembering of the meeting he had with Hermione about the potion she had given to him. "Tell her to come here… it's urgent, so make sure nobody stops her. I have to talk to her."

After a few minutes, a Sleeping Draught that he couldn't resist using, and many tears shed from the girl's side before using said Draught, someone knocked on the door.

"Come in." Draco shouted and sat on one of the empty beds. As expected, Hermione entered the room, seeming unsure if she hadn't mistaken the place. Then she saw him and closed the door behind her back, approaching him.

"Hello." he said. He thought it would be appropriate to say sorry for making her wait down in the waiting room, but the apology didn't sound as good as he thought it would. "They shouldn't keep you waiting. I know I had to put you in the list with the visitors allowed to enter the hospital for today, but I've forgotten. I had so many things to do and…"

"Doesn't matter." She interrupted him with a slight smile that Draco hadn't expected from her. Well, at least not when it came to him. "Well, like I said, I'm here to test if the potion is working. Problem is that I'm not sure how to do that."

Silence fell in the room as they both considered the possibilities they had. Draco couldn't think of many things. How does one test if a potion that prevents you from falling in love is working? He hadn't fallen in love ever in his entire life. He wouldn't know even if the potion hadn't any effect on him. Love – in a… romantic way – wasn't something he had truly experienced.

"Well… I guess…" he started talking, but his tone sounded so unsure and weak that Draco wanted to kick himself for starting to talk at all. Hermione looked at him curiously. "If I find someone I can possibly fall in love with, maybe we'll know or…" his voice died.

"Or maybe" he said a few seconds later, daring to speak again despite the little voice in his head telling him _This is not a good plan, stop, stop, don't do this_. He ignored his own warnings to himself and said his suggestion out loud. "Maybe if you let me…" he bit his lip.

"Let you do what?" Hermione asked, confused. Draco had no words to express the idea that had came to mind – it was too absurd and she would never agree to it – so he just came closer to her, cupping her cheeks with his hands.

"Draco…" she said quietly and looked away. Draco didn't know if it was because she was ashamed or because of any other emotion (_which doesn't matter for you anyway, it has nothing to do with how she feels, so pull yourself together, Malfoy!)_. "How would this possibly help you find out if…"

He kissed her before she could say anything else.

Yes, everything in him was screaming how _wrong _that it. He knew it was. But, of course, it meant nothing; it was just for the sake of knowing if the potion was working. He repeated it to himself again and again as she – probably purely by habit – kissed him back.

"Well, it wasn't actually how you test love, so I guess I still can't know…" he said awkwardly, breaking the kiss and staring pointedly at the sleeping girl on the bed next to the one he was sitting on. He still had no idea in which universe kissing Hermione Granger _for any reason_ seemed like a good idea to him. "Desire has nothing to do with love." He said hastily.

"Absolutely nothing." She agreed wholeheartedly, but still seemed shocked from what Draco had just done.

They exchanged a few more words about the next time she had to make the potion for him and then she left. Even after she was already out the room, Draco couldn't stop himself from thinking about what had happened. His brain didn't seem able to take it.

_It's just the potion messing up with my mind._ He thought. _Maybe I'm still not used to it._

_Oh, I'm sure it's the potion_, said mockingly another voice in his head. Draco shook his head. He needed some sleep if he didn't want the conversations to himself to become out loud the next time he had an argument with some other part of him.

It was surely the potion and some side effect from it – desire _didn't_ have something to do with love, did it? _Nothing _else could make him want to kiss Hermione Granger. Never.

He kept repeating that to himself from the whole day, until even he was convinced that it was true.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's notes: Well, as you can see, I tried to have some (pathetic excuse for a) plot and I hope it's well. Reviews are welcome, I'd like to know what you guys think for it, because it's my first Draco/Hermione fic and I'm not sure I'm doing it right. (:**

**The song used in the beginning is _Beauty of the Beast_ by _Nightwish._**

_I wish I could come back to you  
Once again feel the rain  
Falling inside me  
Cleaning all that I've become_

"Draco? Is that you?" he heard his mother's voice ringing somewhere in the distance as he closed the door of the Manor behind himself and heard the usual quiet noises which let him know that the magic defenses are returning to their usual duty of protecting the Manor. He nodded tiredly when he saw her coming down the corridor.

"Yes, it's me. Is there any dinner left? I'm starving." Draco admitted. He was rarely this hungry, but it had been a tough day. He couldn't give himself a minute rest to eat something at all. Narcissa smiled and nodded. She was being very worried about him lately – every time when he was coming back from work later than ten o'clock, she always thought that something bad had happened to him. It was usual for her ever since he was a child, so he didn't exactly pay attention to it.

"Of course there is." She answered. "We've been waiting for you… even your aunt is here." She was most likely talking about Andromeda. "And your nephew also." His mother said with a slight smile. Draco frowned, confused. As much as he knew, he hadn't any nephews. When she saw the confusion in his eyes, Narcissa added: "You know, the little Teddy Lupin."

Oh dear Lord. What he had done to deserve this?

"Really, Mother?" Draco asked rather wearily and grimaced slightly. Not that he could do anything. He was too well raised to be able to kick the guests of his house out, and yet he didn't like the kid at all. It was too noisy, too full of energy and too oh-what-is-that-let-me-see-it, mostly when it came to Draco's possessions and other things the child found interesting – most of which he had brought from the hospital with him and which were too dangerous.

But of course he couldn't do anything. Teddy was the only person left to Andromeda – well, except her sister. And he couldn't expect from her to come over for dinner and leave a three-year-old wizard alone in her house. So he had to deal with Teddy sometimes, even when he didn't want to. It just wouldn't be appropriate to be rude to his aunt and his – he tried to avoid the word, but failed – nephew.

"Very well, then." He said without waiting for his mother to answer, and made his way to the dinning room, not even bothering to go up to his room and leave his suitcase – little Teddy would want to play with every single thing there was in said suitcase and he would probably even cry if he didn't get it. His father was – as usual, or at least as every other time Draco's aunt was around – hidden behind a book while he ate half-absently. The peace between Lucius and Andromeda was pretty fragile and they tried to ignore each other as much as they could.

Andromeda, on the other hand, was sitting on the other side of the table with her grandson on the chair next to her. Narcissa took her place near the fireplace and Draco chose the safest position – the one that was quite away from everybody else in the room. "Hello, Father." He said quietly. Lucius just nodded in his direction and kept reading his book. "Hello, aunt. Hi, Teddy." The child waved at him wholeheartedly – for his surprise, Teddy seemed glad to see him. Maybe because he was bringing all the interesting stuff from the hospital home, Draco remembered with a slight smile.

The young man tried to isolate himself from every conversation that he could hear around him at the moment. He saw no point in bothering talking to anyone when his thoughts were so far away from here. And plus, even when they got along well, the dinners were always pretty hard for Draco when there were other people despite him and his parents in the house. So he tried to eat as fast as he could – no matter that he knew the idea is bad despite how hungry he currently was – and left the room before anybody else.

o.O.o

Almost two hours later, Draco was lying in his bed, still awake, staring at the ceiling of his room, and it wasn't just because of the storm raging outside. He couldn't fall asleep while all the things that had happened in the last week raced through his mind. He just couldn't get over how unfair it all was for him. Hadn't he suffered enough for the mistakes he had made through the years? What he has been through during the war could be more than enough for anyone for a lifetime.

His father was much worse than him, and what did he get? He avoided Azkaban, because he switched sides in the last moment. His father wasn't just some man that made a few mistakes in his life. He had been a _criminal_ in the past_._ And yet, he got a peaceful life in his Manor for the rest of his life. With his wife and all the people he loved. He was appreciating it, of course. Every morning during breakfast, Draco could see him smiling behind his newspaper and drinking his tea, because he was just glad he was free to sit there with his family without being in death danger all the time.

The same went to Draco's mother. She seemed as the happiest person on earth now that everything was over. There was nothing that could make her sad – that was how simple her life was. She even renewed her connection with her sister Andromeda that had left without almost any relatives or friends after the war. She didn't care about anything else but her own life now; her prejudices – most of which Draco remembered she had since he was a kid – were gone. She just liked to get a peaceful life.

And yet, Draco himself couldn't get any peace.

First it was all this insisting to him getting married from almost every person he knew. His parents said it, most of his friends from school were already married to the people they were mean to, and even this crazy old uncle of his – Rodolphus or whatever the name was – came to him and told him: _Isn't it time for you to have an heir already, young man? I was already engaged at the age of twenty. _Yes, the man was possibly joking, but Draco couldn't be sure, and if he couldn't find a fiancée soon, his parents would do it for him and that would be even more horrible.

And he would probably end up with Millicent Bullstrode or something like that. Or even worse – with a woman he had never met before, maybe way older than him. He had seen things like that happening over the years, especially when it came to the pureblood families. The mere thought made him shudder in horror.

But this problem was solved now that Draco had the potion. If he couldn't fall in love with whatever wife his parents pick up for him, there would be no trouble. He could always refuse to marry her, even since everyone told him that in their families, it's not about love. Of course it wasn't. It was all about money, blood purity and sometimes – but on rare occasions – appearance. And yet, he could say no and end this madness. He had his own will after all. They couldn't command him anymore.

But this kiss… This was the main thing that kept him awake tonight. Draco had spent many sleepless nights in worrying for his impending marriage to only Merlin knows who. For some reason, tonight the problem with the kiss seemed more important to him. He had kissed Hermione Granger with no obvious explanation for it. And, even worse than that, it seemed right to him in the moment he had kissed her – that was what worried him the most. Back then, a few hours ago, he didn't think that he was doing something positively weird and unexpected. He just thought that it would be a good idea to do it – and he did it. Even the fact that he actually had any reason – to test the goddamn potion – couldn't change that. _He had kissed Hermione Granger and he didn't think it was wrong._

Suddenly Draco was sure of something else. He had to… write her a letter. That was it. It was one of those crazy thoughts that suddenly interrupt your attempts to sleep late at night, and he knew it, but he couldn't resist it. He was too confused of what had happened to take it on his own. Maybe he had to apologize for kissing her and something like that also. Already convinced of this idea, he stood up, turned on the candles on the chandelier with a flick of his wand, and started searching for a quill and a piece of parchment somewhere around the room.

Fortunately enough, soon he found what he was searching for on his desk under the window. Draco sat back on his bed, but his hand froze, hesitating, just an inch away from the parchment. What he was supposed to write now? He had never written her a letter – he hadn't any reason to do such a thing. Even the searching for her address – he had to order the potion somewhere after all – happened without her knowing anything about it, because he went in the Department she worked at at the Ministry and he asked one of her colleagues about it. He decided that he had to write it in a firm, adult-like way. Maybe that would make it sound less idiotic – because, really, there was no explanation for his sudden, whacked idea to do this.

_Dear Grang-_

No. He couldn't write _dear _on a letter sent to _her,_ no matter how polite he wanted to be. Things had gone pretty far already even without such familiarity for her; he didn't need any more complications. And most importantly, he didn't want Granger to think that he actually sympathized her in any way. Shaking his head in amazement of his own stupidity, he scratched what he had written and started again.

_Granger,_

_I'd like to apologize for my behavior today. I didn't mean to harm your dignity in any way and I hope you didn't take it as such an attempt. All I wanted was to check if the potion you gave to me is working, and I can say that it is – though maybe this wasn't the best way of checking this. I can't be sure in its effect, of course. But I guess that if I ever fall in love, I'd be able to recognize the feeling and blame you for all of it._

_However, I'm sorry for bothering you with those things in such a late hour also – especially when I made you roam the hospital for a whole day today. I'm aware that it's shortly after midnight and I hope that the owl that is supposed to bring this to you will arrive in the morning without interrupting you with my problems again._

_Sincerely,_

_D. M._

After rereading it a few times, Draco decided that it sounded polite enough without being too friendly. He called his eagle owl – currently sleeping in its cage – and whispered the address to it, hoping that Mr. and Mrs. Granger were used to owls invading their house at such an unholy hour of the day. But maybe she would get the letter in the morning, indeed. London wasn't that close to Wiltshire.

Draco returned back to his bed and closed his eyes. He wouldn't let any other thought about any problem in his life bother him again. He had to be in _St. Mungo's_ at 7:30 AM tomorrow. He couldn't afford wasting more time for sleep in such things and tried not to think of anything – that was the easiest way to fall asleep, or at least that was what he thought. Soon he felt the familiar haziness in his mind that portended sleep.

o.O.o

When Draco woke up in the next morning, the house was absolutely quiet and he knew why. It was six o'clock in the morning. Almost everybody was still in bed except him.

Anyway, just to make sure, he checked his parents' bedroom – if they had gone somewhere else he had to be the one to renew the protective charms around the Manor today. To his relief, however, they were sleeping. Draco sighed. His mother was asleep too. This meant he had to make breakfast for himself, which also meant that he's not going to eat at all – he could barely boil water without accidents, let alone making some actual food for himself.

He packed the stuff he needed for work and left the house at seven o'clock. He knew he would arrive a bit early – he was Apparating to the hospital every day – but there was this small habit of his. Every morning, he would go to _St. Mungo's, _buy tea or coffee – it depended on his mood – in the visitor's tearoom and then lock himself in his office for the time left until the start of the day in the hospital.

Today was no different. Draco locked the door with a wave of his wand and placed his cup of tea on his desk. He closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, trying to clear his thoughts. This was a daily routine – something he found really relaxing. _Clear your thoughts. Don't leave in your mind any unsolved problem. Don't let anything bother you._ The instructions echoed in his mind every morning when he did this, ever since this time almost five years ago when his aunt taught him Occlumency. Though, probably, Bellatrix had been pretty practical about these advices she gave him back then – for her, this was just a way to close your mind to any invasion. For Draco, it was a way to start a new day without thinking for yesterday. It was a new beginning.

He recalled anything that bothered him at the moment – it was the first thing he did when he was trying to solve the situation – but it seemed that there were no real problems in his life right now.

First, it was that man in the Spell Damage section. Draco could do almost anything in the hospital, but his specialty were the hexes and curses, so he spent quite a lot of time with the cursed ones from all over the UK. This particular man, though – some man named George Shinnston – was a case Draco was trying to deal with in almost a month. Mr Shinnston's memory was completely lost and he didn't know who he is or where he's coming from, let alone what happened to him at all. The only reason they called him with this name was because it was the first thing he said when he woke up. Draco himself had found him in the village near Malfoy Manor and had figured out that he's a wizard only by the wand in his pocket.

But Draco could fix that, of course. The man had remembered that he had a wife and two sons; he even managed to recall their names. He even remembered that he had been on a walk in said village when he was attacked. Alas, he couldn't remember _why _he was attacked. He couldn't remember what he was carrying with him too – even though everyone guessed that whatever it was, it was stolen.

Anyway, this wasn't a problem anymore. Maybe just a week more, and the man would remember where exactly he lived – right now, he was certain it was somewhere in Wales – and everything would be alright with him. This problem was solved.

Well, the other – and only – thing that bothered him now was… Hermione. Again. Last night, when he fell asleep, he thought that he had fixed everything, but now he regretted sending that letter. A decision taken late at night was rarely a good one. And he had talked to her enough in the last few days; he wasn't supposed to see her until the next time he needed more potion. Maybe, even if she would bother answer his letter, they wouldn't meet again for six months.

As soon as Draco realized that everything seemed well – his world was back on its feet – he had already drank almost all of his tea and he could hear the people entering the hospital suddenly as its doors opened for the visitors. With a slight sigh of contentment, Draco left his office and walked down the corridor to reach the room of the cursed ones.

"Hello, Mr Shinnston." He smiled when he saw the man recognizing him. "How are you today?"

o.O.o

"Malfoy? Are you doing anything really really urgent right now? Because I need… I need help and I think you're the man." Healer Thompson was leaning at the door frame. Draco scowled at him, irritated by the fact that something had changed in the room at all – he knew that it confused his current patient. He was actually having some success with another one in the room of George Shinnston – one that couldn't recover from a badly-cast Imperius curse.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you're from the first floor, Thompson. Whatever you need me for, I'm pretty sure you can find someone else for it." He said and the older healer glared at him. "No, I can't." Thompson said. "You know that you're good with physical traumas just as much as with the psychical ones. Or at least, you're the one that can work fast enough to get things at least acceptable to begin with. So… please?"

"Give me one good reason to help you." Draco said grimly.

"Because you're a good man and you're always here to help?" the other healer said hopefully and Draco rolled his eyes.

"No, I'm not. _And _I have my own patients." He pointed out. "Find someone else to do it."

"Oh _come on!_ It's urgent and it's actually quite a nasty sight right now, because we have two Aurors with so many dragon burns that they're almost unrecognizable. You know that most of the actually good Healers in my section are women. I need someone who can do something without fainting at the same instant."

This was actually a pretty good argument. Draco couldn't be impressed easily. Blood didn't disgust him as much it should and that was why he was at least useful for some of those cases.

"Aurors, you say?" he asked and Thompson beamed at him and Draco raised his hand warningly. "I'm not saying yes. Just asking. How old are they?"

"Twenty."

"Merlin." He murmured. "Don't tell me. They're from the I-was-in-the-battle-of-Hogwarts-and-minister-Kingsley-said-I-can-be-an-Auror-without-any-NEWTs movement, aren't they?"

"Quite so." Thompson admitted. "Don't be too hard on them. They're your age after all."

With a sigh of desperation, Draco gave up. He made sure that the man he was supposed to take care of was being alright without him for the moment and followed the older healer down the corridor and to the first floor. If it was urgent, he couldn't refuse, no matter how often he repeated that he doesn't care. Truth was that he loved his job and he couldn't say no when it was something important, even if someone else could do it too.

"Here they are." Thompson said as they reached the place. "I'd help you, but as much as I know, you like to work alone, right?"

Draco merely nodded and entered the room.

"Oh, not you two again." He murmured when he saw the Aurors. "What for Merlin's sake happened now?"

"Dragons." one of them whispered, mostly because he was probably too weak to speak normally. And Draco could understand him right now. The poor thing was covered in – as Thompson had warned him – really bad looking burns. "We accidentally got into them…"

"Yes, you have that tendency, Potter. Everything happens accidentally." Draco murmured under his breath.

"Where's Ron? Will he be OK?" Harry Potter insisted, trying to sit up, but then gave up with a small cry of pain. Draco sighed again. These two would never change.

"He'll be fine. Your name?" he asked, starting with something simple as a question. That was the usual way to check for a concussion – start with something easy and then ask some more difficult questions.

"Not again." The other man pleaded. Draco raised an eyebrow expectantly and he rolled his eyes. "You live to torture me, don't you… Harry Potter."

"Birthday date?"

"31st July."

"Very well… can you remember _my _name?"

"An annoying prick that does this every time I get here? OK, OK, Draco Malfoy." He hurried to say when Draco raised his wand threateningly. "God. If I wasn't in this state, I would hex you right now."

"Lucky me, then. Now stay still, I have to heal the burns…"

His voice died when someone else entered the ward and stormed to the other bed that was currently occupied – where another healer was healing Ron Weasley. The woman that came in now, however, wasn't a healer.

Draco couldn't take his eyes off them when Hermione started talking to Ron, on the edge of tears, and he told her with a smile that he was fine. She apparently didn't believe him – she had no reason to, because he looked dreadfully – and leaned down to kiss him tenderly.

o.O.o

A few hours later, when Draco was already leaving the hospital, he was telling himself that he was being stupid. After Potter and Weasley were healed, Draco had the chance to talk to her for a while – she told him what she wanted to write in a letter. She even said she was glad to see him. She was being really nice and he just stood there staring at her grimly.

He was being stupid. Draco knew that. Why he was paying any attention to her at all?

Maybe it had something to do with the way he felt when he talked to her, he thought. He felt… new. Clean. As if his past had never existed. As a whole new person. And he had to admit that he quite liked that.

And yet, Draco couldn't fall in love with anybody – _anybody _– so it didn't mind, right? She had told him that the potion worked with everyone she had sold it to till now. Why he would be an exception? And why, amongst all people, he would fall in love with _Hermione Granger_?

He was determined that he felt nothing – after all, even if he didn't take all the other reasons why this would be wrong – you can't fall in love with somebody in a week, could you? And yet, when he saw her leaving the hospital after saying goodbye to her friends – the two men had to stay here for a few days to recover entirely – Draco could feel some stinging in his chest.

He had had only a few relationships at all, but they were enough for him to recognize jealousy.

_Dear Lord, Malfoy. What are you getting yourself into?_


End file.
